


A Life With You

by UnluckyLuke



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Oneshot collection, Rare Pair, rarepair week
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-15 21:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnluckyLuke/pseuds/UnluckyLuke
Summary: A small collection of AmeIce oneshots based on the prompts for the 2018 rarepair week.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Day one - First meeting
> 
> Emil knew Alfred was good-looking, but never had he thought he'd find the American this attractive.

Alfred Jones had protested against protecting an annexed nation, especially one that was supposed to be neutral in the war. Though he himself was still neutral… He wasn’t sure how long that’d last. But Arthur insisted and Mathias had practically begged - something that was extremely unique for the Scandinavian nation - and Alfred couldn’t disagree. He knew the island nation wasn’t very well-protected on its own and was in a convenient position… Both geographically and tactically. 

Emil Steilsson barely had a choice in the matter. He was asked if he wanted any specific nations to protect him but the choice was limited to Allied nations - of which he knew practically none. So he’d left the choice to Arthur. He trusted the older nation with at least that, for as far as it could be considered trust. Arthur knew the Allied Forces better than Emil did. Way better. After all, Great Britain was part of the alliance, unlike Iceland.

The defence was officially carried over on the seventh of July, but Alfred didn’t go over to visit until a few weeks later, towards the end of the month. He’d been rather busy at the start of the month. The twenty-seventh of the same month was when Alfred first met Emil - the day both of their lives changed forever. 

Emil had been standing at the airport, a small and very new one with only one runway, but it was enough. It wasn’t like he got many flights going in or out, especially with the war going on. It was too dangerous to go anywhere unless you went for a reason. And even then it was dangerous. He was glad to see that the American aeroplane landed safely. Though that in itself wasn’t surprising, seeing as there was little to no Axis air defence on the Atlantic Ocean. He took his ear protection off his head and rested it around his neck when the plane turned its engines off and waited patiently for the small American delegation to exit the plane. His platinum blonde hair was slightly wavy in the wind and was annoyingly in front of his eyes. 

He watched as the portable stairs were rolled up to the front door and the door opened, showing a small American delegation, with a very distinct man at the front. Someone who Emil immediately decided had to be Alfred - not just because of his distinction from the other men, but the energy he radiated was as immortal as any nation’s. The tall, blonde man’s hair was mostly too short to move with the wind as Emil’s did but his fringe almost heroically flowed to the left, a weird strand of hair standing up almost straight on his head. He looked muscular. Not exactly ripped but he could probably lift Emil with ease nonetheless. The young nation was speechless. He’d been warned that Alfred was good-looking but not that he was breathtaking. 

Alfred and the men behind him began making their way down the stairs. Alfred approached Emil while the other men stopped as soon as they set foot on the ground, reaching out his hand with a big grin on his face. “You must be Emil, then,” he said. “My name is Alfred F. Jones. I’m here to save the day!”

Emil nodded and shook the American’s hand. “Welcome,” he replied, attempting to hide the immediate admiration he had for the man. Everything about him seemed optimistic. Like this war would be over soon. Although that didn’t seem to be the case and Alfred’s optimism might’ve been forced. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m glad to be here!” Alfred beamed before turning back to his crew. “Guys, feel free to take some time to write home! I should talk to Emil here for a moment.”

Emil cocked his head sideways slightly and watched the men disperse across the airport, each finding their own spot to write their families - their wives, siblings, parents, some of them even had children - while Alfred stepped closer to Emil. “Everything said here has to stay between us. Not even other nations can know.”

Emil nodded. “Understood.”

Alfred grinned and clapped. “Great! Uh, my men don’t know about the whole nation thing, first of all. I know Arthur tells his generals and delegations for safety and Francis makes sure there’s always someone who knows but the only person in the United States who knows is the President. And I make sure he doesn’t remember after he steps down.”

“Hm.” Emil thought about it for a moment. He thought it was only fair if he told Alfred who knew about the nations in his country. “Well, the King knows about us, and the most important people in my government.”

“King?”

“Yes,” Emil nodded. “Though I’m independent, I still have a union - an agreement, if you will - with Denmark. Kind of like Canada with Britain.” 

“Oh?” Alfred tilted his head as his sky blue eyes sparkled with wonder and curiosity. “Oh! Yeah! Like the Commonwealth!”

“Right,” Emil nodded. The island nation then stayed silent, waiting for Alfred to ask another question, but the American stayed silent too. Emil rather enjoyed the silence. Alfred was loud and somewhat obnoxious. But still better than Mathias, he thought to himself. 

“Hey, will you show me around Reykjavik?” Alfred asked after a while. “I rarely get to see other cities apart from meetings and I don’t think there’s ever been a meeting here before.”

“You’d be correct.” Emil nodded. “Do you think your… Men will be fine?”

“Oh, yeah,” Alfred made some vague hand gestures. “They know what their mission here is and that is not to protect me. They’ll make their way to their destinations when they finished writing.”

“Well,” Emil said, thinking about it for a couple of seconds. “Okay, then, I’ll show you around Reykjavik.”

Little did either of them know that this alliance would rock their world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Cooking/Baking
> 
> It's almost Emil's 100th birthday! That requires some traditional pastries. The two men get to baking - they have to.

Emil Steilsson impatiently tapped his foot on the hard wooden floor. Tomorrow was a big day for him and Alfred promised he’d come help but the American hadn’t arrived yet. He was getting nervous. After this long, would he really be stood up? By Alfred, no less? He fiddled with the ring on his finger quietly to remind himself that Alfred wouldn’t do that.   
Feeling the ring on his finger brought a small smile to his face. That day… It had been the best day of his life. And that said a lot, considering he was almost 1200 years old. Just as Emil got lost in thoughts, the door slammed open and the island nation jumped up. 

“Shit!” Alfred yelled through the apartment. He slammed the door behind him and dropped his suitcase on the floor before sprinting to the kitchen to tightly hug Emil. The younger man gasped loudly, struggled for a moment, and then realised it was useless to try to escape from Alfred’s arms, so he returned the hug. “I’m sorry, babe, I--”

“You’re being too loud, Al,” Emil replied with a small sigh. 

“Whoops. I’m sorry.” Alfred let go of Emil and placed a kiss on his nose. Alfred did that a lot. He loved the light freckles that were scattered across Emil’s face. “I couldn’t seem to catch a cab and why don’t you have Uber over here? It was a mess to get away from the airport.”

“I don’t know why I don’t have Uber,” Emil answered, turning to the counter. He’d gotten everything set up already, the ingredients sitting in groups of “Why don’t you ask Uber?”

“Ooh, baking stuff!” Alfred grinned, and Emil facepalmed. He couldn’t believe he’d married an actual puppy. Alfred’s bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement. The American loved baking - contrary to popular belief - and especially with his husband.

“Did you think there would be no baking this year?” He asked, beginning to open the flour. Each year since 1991 they’d met up, one year in Iceland, the other in the United States. They’d stay with one another for about three weeks - they could celebrate both their birthdays and for nine years, their wedding anniversary was between their birthdays. And every year they spent hours baking, making the most lovely pastries for each event.

“Nah,” Alfred smiled. “Hey, gimme your hand.”

Emil knew exactly what Alfred meant and lifted his hand as if he was inviting his husband to give him a high-five. Alfred gently put his hand up to Emil’s, their wedding rings touching as he did. It was a little thing they did that just came to be over time. Neither of them really knew what it was or why they did it, but it was their way of saying “I love you”. They smiled at each other and their fingers intertwined and Emil felt safe again as Alfred softly kissed him. He had a hard time feeling safe when Alfred wasn’t around. 

“I missed you,” Emil whispered.

“I missed you too, Em,” Alfred smiled, kissing Emil’s fingers lovingly. Being alone with Alfred always made Emil feel special. No one else got to see Alfred like this. He was so gentle and so loving and God, Emil loved it. Emil loved him.

“So what’re we making?” Alfred asked then, turning to the countertop. He didn’t let go of Emil’s hand. 

“Snúðakaka,” Emil replied. “The cinnamon roll-y cake.”

“Babe, you don’t need to translate pastries anymore,” Alfred grinned. For the first time since Alfred arrived (but for the thousandth time since they met), Emil noticed Alfred’s dimples. “Oh, hey, are we making skúffukaka too?”

“I wasn’t planning to but I have the ingredients,” Emil said. “We absolutely could.”

“Ah, can we? Please?”

“You’re a grown man, not a puppy,” Emil noted. “But yes, I just said we could.” 

“Nice,” Alfred smirked and let go of Emil’s hand now, beginning to open the bags of ingredients for the cake. Emil began heating up the milk, keeping a thermometer in it to check the temperature, and added the yeast to the beverage as soon as it was warm enough. Alfred, meanwhile, had washed his hands began mixing the dry ingredients with the butter, and as soon as Emil added the milk mixture, Alfred added an egg and continued kneading the dough with a small smile. While the American made the dough, Emil began making the filling.

“Em, where should I put it?”

“Uh… You can put it on the dining table.”

“Aight.” Alfred put the dough in a large bowl and set the bowl on the dining table. “Should I start finding the ingredients for skúffukaka?”

“Sure,” Emil nodded, “but I did put all my stuff in other places. Find things here first, too, before you make a fool of yourself.”

“I would never,” Alfred scoffed, but he mentally went down the list of ingredients and checked off everything he found on the counter before going to find the rest of the ingredients. It didn’t take too long - luckily - and the American set everything out the way Emil had earlier while the smaller nation set the filling on the table next to the dough and swept his platinum hair out of his neck, without much success. It was just too short. “I need a haircut,” he muttered. 

“Or you could let it grow,” Alfred suggested. “That’d probably look really good.”

“Nah,” Emil sighed. “Not fond of that idea.”

“Aw,” Alfred pouted, but he knew there was no changing Emil’s mind. The Icelander was about just as stubborn as the American and they both knew it was best to stop as soon as the other disagreed because they could keep arguing forever. Luckily it was never about serious things, as they agreed on most of those or just avoided the subject. 

“Oh, Em, come over here, please?” Alfred smiled at his husband - God, that smile - and Emil made his way over. Alfred poked Emil’s cheek, licked his finger, then licked Emil’s cheek. “You had some of the filling on your cheek.”

“So you lick it.” Emil raised his eyebrow and tilted his head and Alfred nodded with a grin.

“Yeah,” he said. “You know it, man.”

Emil chuckled and shrugged. “I guess I should know by now. In fact, I did. I just didn’t really see it coming.”

“Hey, where’s Mr. Puffin?”

Emil looked around and sighed. “I guess he went out.” The bird wasn’t Emil’s possession, they just spent most of their time together. Emil never really needed to know where he was. He wasn’t sure he always wanted to.

“Right,” Alfred nodded. “So… Are you mixing the dry ingredients or--”

“I don’t particularly care, Al,” Emil snickered softly. “I’ll take the dry ingredients, I guess.”

“Alright.” Alfred picked up the butter and the sugar and began mixing them together, humming a soft song that Emil recognised and sang along as he began sifting the dry ingredients into a bowl. 

“Have you ever felt like nobody was there…”

Alfred smiled somewhat sadly. “Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?” 

“Have you ever felt like you could disappear? Like you could fall-”

“And no one would hear.”

Emil started tearing up slightly but he blinked his tears away and focused on mixing his ingredients, hoping Alfred didn’t notice - but he did. “Em?”

“I’m fine, Al,” Emil whispered, but his mind just drifted back to bad memories and shit, he just wanted a long hug from his brother… But Lukas wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow and Emil just kept to himself. Alfred knew immediately something was wrong, turned off the mixer and hugged Emil, rubbing his back. 

“Hey…” 

Emil returned the hug and buried his face in Alfred’s chest, staying completely silent. He shut himself in whenever things got bad in his head and Alfred knew this as well as anyone close to the island nation. The American had accepted it long ago and swore to himself to do anything in his power to comfort Emil. 

“I love you, Emil.”

“I know,” Emil whispered. “I love you too.”

 

0o0o0o0o0

 

“Who wants some cake?” Alfred grinned slightly. He’d worked well into the night to get exactly 100 candles on the skúffukaka and Emil face palmed loudly when he brought it out, the candles all lit. 

“My God, Alfred.”

Mathias snorted loudly. “Did you actually put a hundred fucking candles on that cake? How long did that take?”

“I was up until 1am,” Alfred admitted, making Emil sigh. Alfred set the cake down. “Now, Em, if you don’t blow them out soon, there’ll be candle wax in the topping.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me.”

“I… Can’t deny that.”

“You two are going to make me puke,” Arthur muttered and Alfred rolled his eyes.

“Oh, shut up. I won't stand for this hypocrisy, Arthur.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur said in false offense. Lukas let out a scoff and leaned against Mathias.

"I think we all know that," the Norwegian muttered.

"Hey!" Arthur punched his friend gently and Alfred laughed.

Emil blew out the candles while no one was paying attention and just sat back and listened to how his visitors bickered. He loved his birthday, and he hoped that would never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snúðakaka is a cake of cinnamon roll-like pastries with chocolate (or vanilla) topping.   
> Skúffukaka is a chocolate cake that has a texture similar to brownies. I imagine Alfred would love it a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter is a rowdy kid and Alfred asks Emil to help him in his babysitting quest. However, things go a bit differently than planned when Alfred's mind begins to race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a few days behind (I was really busy) but this is a long one! Over 2000 words. This one is preeetty angsty.

Alfred Jones-Steilsson didn’t know what he had to do with the kid. He wouldn’t if his life depended on it. Yet here he was, his life nearly depending on it, with a prepubescent kid who he guessed was his brother. Relationships were weird in his family. He wasn’t even sure if Arthur was a father-figure, a brother, or just a close friend. They considered each other brothers. And rivals, to an extent.

The young nation - if you could even call him that - somehow always managed to get on Alfred’s nerves. Alfred was more than grateful that Emil wanted to help him - in the United Kingdom, no less, as if he didn’t have anything better to do. Alfred was pretty sure he owed the island nation his life before realising he’d already given it.

“Aaaaaallll!” A small body clung to Alfred and Alfred sighed quietly. He’d made Peter clean up the mess the young British boy had made earlier that day. 

“Hey, Peter! You done cleaning up?”

“Yeah!” Peter let go of Alfred and looked up at him, grinning brightly. “What time are we going to pick up Emil?”

“Erm, I think his plane lands in an hour or so,” Alfred replied. He looked at the clock and sighed again, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t realise how much he’d missed his husband until they were about to see eachother again. Time always went so slowly then and Alfred anxiously waited until he could finally hug Emil again. It was always the same, no matter who he was with.

“Well, then we should get going, Al!” Peter grabbed Alfred’s wrist and pulled the taller man towards the entrance. “Stansted is an hour drive from here!” 

“How did you know he’s landing at Stansted?” Alfred asked, stumbling and tripping over his own feet. Peter was stronger than he seemed and Alfred had definitely underestimated the boy, and immediately paid for his mistake. 

“I know more than you think!” Peter declared. Alfred knew he was loud but he was sure Peter was even louder. “I know which planes land when and where in all of England! Not in the rest of the UK, though. Kinda wish I did.”

“I bet,” Alfred grinned. He snatched his coat off the coat holder as Peter swung open the door. It was quite the difference between April in Florida versus April in London. Peter loved the temperature outside and was wearing nothing but a t-shirt while Alfred wore long sleeves and his bomber jacket and he was still cold. “Hey, how the heck are you not cold?”

“I’m used to this weather,” Peter smiled up at Alfred. “I go snow-diving with Papa sometimes so this is nothing. Though it usually takes a lot of hot chocolate and sitting by the fireplace to warm up again, but that goes for both of us.”

“I… Do take Tino for someone to dive in snow,” Alfred snickered softly. “In my defense, I did come from Florida to watch you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve never been to Florida,” Peter crossed his arms as Alfred unlocked the car. 

“You’ve been to the States before, though,” Alfred said, getting in the driver’s seat. Peter pulled the passenger’s seat door open and sat next to Alfred.

“Yeah, that was Nevada,” Peter sighed. “For James.”

“Riiight!” Alfred grinned and buckled his seatbelt. “Get your seatbelt on, we got a nation to pick up.”

The ride there was awfully silent for two of the loudest nations in the world. The music was on and they were talking occasionally about some nonsense but the hour-long drive was painful for both of them, and they were both more than happy when the airport came into vision. Alfred parked the rental car at the pick up parking spots and Peter jumped out before the older nation even turned off the engine. “God… Emil, please, save me.”

Alfred got out the car and locked it before sprinting after Peter. “Peter! You’re going to bu--...mp into that door.” The warning came just too late and Peter slammed into the glass door, stumbled back, and fell on the floor. Alfred sighed and made his way over and helped the young boy up.

“You okay, little dude?”

“Yeah, fine,” Peter smiled. “’S not like I never bumped into stuff before!” 

“Alright. Just…” Alfred sighed softly. “Open the door before trying to go through next time. It hurts less. You need ice?”

“Naaah,” Peter grinned. The kid yanked the door open, nearly hitting Alfred in the face this time. The American took a step back just in time and avoided getting his nose broken. 

“Dude, watch out,” he sighed softly. 

“Okaaaay,” Peter skipped through the door to the exit hall. There were other people there, supposedly to pick up loved ones or friends as well. Families were waiting for Dad to get back and one teenager was holding a sign that said ‘Francis’. Alfred assumed the teen meant a different Francis than the one he knew.

Everyone had to wait for ten more minutes before the people started coming through. People were (re)united left and right and Alfred wondered why the hell Emil didn’t get a business class or something that allowed him to come out before everyone else but he guessed Emil was never the type to do that. The island nation was always in economy class unless Alfred was the one booking their flight. 

Even the boy holding the sign that said ‘Francis’ was hugging a boy in no time. Alfred did know that kid. It wasn’t France, but he was American so Alfred knew a thing or two about him nonetheless. He smiled seeing the two hug. He knew now that the other guy was Dutch - though he didn’t know anything about him - and that the two were close friends on all levels but physically. After a few seconds, he looked back to the exit. “Em…”

A few more people passed, mostly going straight to out the building, before Emil emerged. Immediately, he sprinted to his husband and hugged him tightly before turning to Peter. 

“Did he behave?”

“He slammed into a door.”

“Peter… My God,” Emil sighed. “Okay, let’s set a few rules immediately. Peter, no running inside at all times and be careful when you’re outside. No yelling and no means no. No begging for stuff.”

“Aw,” Peter whined, clearly upset with the new rules, even though Alfred thought they were pretty standard. Arthur always had those rules too. “Okaaay…”

“Holy shit, you’re right,” the unknown Dutch guy said in a pretty British accent for a Dutch guy. Judging by both men’s facial expressions he said it louder than intended. Alfred glanced over at them.

“Luke, shut the fuck up,” Francis sighed, and Luke looked at him accusingly, wanting to say something, but Alfred interrupted.

“Luke? That’s a cool name.”

“Thanks!” Luke grinned brightly at the nation. “I picked it myself.”

“Why did I even come over here?” Francis sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

“I am wondering that too,” Emil replied as he looked down to Peter pulling on his hand.

“Well, Andrew is waiting for us,” Luke smiled. “Bea went with us. You’ll love her, she’s the sweetest kid. I can’t believe she’s already ten!”

“I can’t believe I’m in the UK.”

Luke snorted and grabbed Francis’s hand. “Let’s go, dumbass.” The taller man pulled Francis out of the room and Francis stumbled along. Alfred laughed softly and took Emil’s hand - the one that Peter wasn’t pulling - and they, too, made their way out. Peter began sprinting towards Alfred’s rental car, but Emil tightened his grip on the micronation’s hand and sighed. “What did I say about running, Peter?”

“Oh. Right,” Peter nodded. Alfred was already glad Emil was here to help now. The way Emil handled Peter made him wonder if Emil would mind having kids. He shook that thought off immediately, they couldn’t do that. Unlike Tino and Berwald, they just lived too far away from each other. It was impossible. 

The thought kept popping into Alfred’s head on the way back to Arthur’s home in central London and it showed because Emil expressed his concern. “Something’s on your mind.”

“What?” Alfred said, taking his eyes off the road for a second to look at his husband. “No, there’s not.”

“I’ve known you for a bit longer than today, Al,” Emil sighed. “Keep your eyes on the road, though.”

“‘Kay,” Alfred nodded. “But I don’t think we should talk about it in front of Peter. Because he’s 12.”

“Is it an adult thing?” Peter piped in, leaning forward in the car. “I can cover my ears! Or zone out. I do that a lot.”

“And that’s going back to Tino and Berwald,” Emil noted. “I guess it is an adult thing, to some extent. But it’s mainly a private thing probably.”

“Emil,” Peter frowned. “Please don’t tell Papa or Dad about me zoning out. Arthur did and Dad nearly sent me to a psychiatrist. I had to beg for him not to. Papa ended up convincing him so I don’t have to go now but I’m worried I’ll have to anyway if I worry more people. Strangers scare me sometimes. Especially if they want to know eeeverything about me, like a psychiatrist does. I think those are always scary.”

Emil stayed silent. He clearly hadn’t really thought of that before. Alfred knew Emil had a therapist back in Reykjavik that he went to regularly, with occasional hiccups for meetings or holidays, and that it was weird for him to think people wouldn’t want one. Alfred had convinced himself he didn’t need one but in reality, he didn’t want anyone to know about his status as nation and most of his problems required that background information - his rocky relationship with Arthur that led to the American Revolution, the Civil War, the World Wars… It was impossible to understand how those historical wars influenced Alfred unless you knew his nation status, and that necessity had kept Alfred from getting professional help for decades.

“Alright, then,” Emil said quietly. “I won’t tell them.”

“Thanks,” Peter replied, just as quiet as the Icelander. The silence that followed was crushing.

There was news on the radio but Alfred didn’t want to hear it. War and terrorism and death were, as always, the main themes, and after two announcements he’d had more than enough of it. So the radio was turned down and it didn’t make the silence any better. If anything, it made it worse. More silent, more crushing, so much heavier.

As soon as they got home, Alfred left the car.

He didn't bother to take out the keys or even turn off the engine and Emil did so before running after his husband. Peter got out the car a second before Emil locked it. 

“Alfred?” Emil entered the home and realised he'd never been here before. He cursed under his breath and Peter glanced at him curiously. 

“What did you say?”

“Nothing important.” For once, Emil was glad his native tongue slipped through his conscience. He looked around and sighed, turning to Peter. “Where's Alfred's room?”

“Upstairs. Next to mine. You'll recognise which is my room and there's only one next to it!” 

“Alright. You should go watch TV.” Emil ruffled Peter's hair and Peter skipped off to the living room as Emil went upstairs quietly, knocking on the door Peter said should be Alfred's. Peter’s door was indeed very obviously Peter’s - the flag of Sealand had been painted on it and it was scattered with drawings made by Peter and other micronations.

“Al? Can we talk now?”

“Yeah,” Alfred opened the door and Emil entered the room. It was bare, especially compared to Alfred's room back home, and it was obvious the American didn't use it a lot. It'd have been much more cluttered if he did.

As soon as the door closed behind Emil, he tightly hugged Alfred. The American returned the hug and sighed softly. He’d calmed down a little by now - otherwise he wouldn’t have let Emil   
in to begin with. They stood there, hugging in silence for a couple of minutes. 

“I’m sorry,”Alfred whispered, letting go of Emil and sitting down on his bed. 

“What’re you sorry for?” Emil sat down next to Alfred and took his hand gently, and Alfred sighed, leaning into his husband quietly. 

“I kind of ruined the mood, didn’t I?” Alfred said, a sad chuckle leaving his mouth. 

“That’s not something to apologise for,” Emil replied, but Alfred shook his head.

“No, it is. I started overthinking and everything went downhill from there.”

“Al, it’s okay,” Emil whispered, nuzzling his face into Alfred’s hair, pressing a soft kiss onto the other’s head. “What were you thinking about?”

“About us,” Alfred muttered. “A-about the fact that we don’t get to see each other all that much and- It makes the times we do see each other even more special but we’re married, Em, and I always miss you and I just… I don’t know. It stresses me out.”

“I know.” Emil wrapped his arms around his husband. “It’s stressful sometimes. I hate being without you but… It is how it is. Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“An occupation that I didn’t choose,” Alfred sighed. They sat there silently for another few minutes, Emil’s face still nuzzled into Alfred’s golden hair, relieved he got to hold his husband again. 

“I love you, Em,” Alfred then said, closing his eyes.

“I love you too, Al.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next one is going to be really good. I hope.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DAY 4 - AU (soulmate)
> 
> After almost two years of trying to contact his soulmate, Alfred finally gets a message from one Emil Steilsson, a Norwegian with an even rockier past than the American boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Note 1: Emil is nonbinary in this AU.
> 
> *Note 2: This is a soulmate AU. On your 16th birthday, you gain the ability to contact your soulmate by writing on your skin. Before that, you can't send messages to or receive messages from your soulmate.
> 
> *Note 3: There are hints of FrUK and DenNor in this.

The letters on his arm had faded too much now. Matthew had admitted he wouldn’t be able to read it if he hadn’t known what it said. So Alfred grabbed a pen, and for the third time that week, he went over the letters on his wrist. _Hi! My name is Alfred Jones. When you see this, please text me_. After that, he left his phone number, and noted that it’s an American phone number. Just in case. You never knew where your soulmate was - Alfred and Matthew’s parents had been from different countries and Matthew’s soulmate was European. It had been almost two years now and the note had been on the American’s arm all that time. Alfred had almost given up hope. Maybe he didn’t have a soulmate. The only thing that kept him going was the four year age gap between his own parents and therefore the fact that his soulmate could obviously be several years younger than him. Matthew’s soulmate was Alfred’s age - a year older than Matthew himself. They’d met once, in the middle of winter. Matthew had gone with Arthur for a trip to Amsterdam in order to meet Lars. Matthew had been happier than ever when he called Francis and Alfred but he’d hated the fact that it had passed so quickly. Now Lars was coming over this summer to meet Matthew’s family and Alfred still didn’t know where - let alone who - his soulmate was. He was happy for Matthew, but he hated it.

* * *

 

Lukas had already been engaged to his soulmate on the day Emil turned 16. The Dane had been more than excited for the big day but Lukas thought different - being the older of the two, he just hoped Emil didn't have to go through that anxious period of waiting for a response from their soulmate, a period that Lukas knew all too well. Emil had stayed up until late that night, almost 2 am, to wait for something - anything - to appear on their body. They kept an eye on areas that were easy to write on - their arms, their legs, their hands, heck, even their belly. The light in their room was on so late at night and Emil was waiting anxiously, drawing all over their hips just to kill time. The faded letters on their wrist had been noticed a while before they noticed they had been refreshed. _Hi! My name is Alfred Jones. When you see this, please text me. +1 917 720 1046 (It's an American phone number, just saying)_. As soon as the young Norwegian noticed the fresh writing on their arm, they went straight for their phone and quickly entered the foreign phone number into the designated box and shakingly began constructing a text.

**_Hi Alfred. My name is Emil Steilsson. I saw your message on my wrist today_ ** _._ Emil paused typing for a moment. They'd never been good at texting or really any way of contacting strangers. **_I'm from Norway. Where in America do you live?_ **

* * *

 

Alfred jumped up at the sound of his phone, leaping to the device over Matthew's bed. "Alfred!" Matthew yelped, but Alfred didn't listen. It was 8 pm and Alfred was typing up a story, Matthew beside him writing an essay when the phone buzzed. Alfred opened the message and read it. And again. And again. And again. He couldn't believe it, to be honest, and he wasn't sure he wanted to, because of the possibility of a scam that was stuck in the back of his mind but he texted back.

_Hey! I live in New York City, in Brooklyn. With my dads and my brother._

"Hey, Matt, what time is it in western Europe?"

"You mean the mainland? Like Lars's time? It's just past 2 am there. Why?"

"He lives in Norway."

_Say, why aren't you asleep? Isn't it super late where you are?_

"He?" Matthew closed his laptop and sat up in his bed, looking at Alfred. "Who are you talking abo-- Wait."

"Mmhm!" Alfred pressed the send button on his phone and fell down over Matthew's lap, making his younger brother yelp once more.

"Alfred!" Matthew shoved his brother off the bed and rolled his eyes.

"Ow! Mattie!" Alfred sighed before checking his phone again.

**_I don't have much to do tomorrow. Also, I have no clue what a sleep schedule is. Great first question, though._ **

**_Very quick question, Alfred, how do you feel about gender-neutral pronouns?_ **

"Boys," Arthur sighed, peeking through the door. "You're being awfully loud while making homework."

"I have a good reason, Dad," Alfred pouted, scrambling up to a seated position.

"Oh, do you now?" Arthur mused. The British man leaned against the doorframe and looked at his son.

"Yes," Alfred crossed his arms. "I may or may not have heard from my soulmate today."

"... Well, I guess that is a good reason." Arthur smiled at his son. "Congrats, Alfred. I'd love to hear about them soon."

"Okay," Alfred smiled back. "Of course."

_I'm fine with those. Why do you ask?_

**_I'm nonbinary. I use they/them._ **

_Right! Okay. That's cool._

Emil smiled at their phone. The thing they had been most terrified of was that their soulmate was a transphobe or at least a truscum - they'd have hated that and would likely have had to lie about their identity or just not bother with their soulmate and neither of them was really good options for the teenager.

"Emil," a very, very tired voice sounded from the hallway. "If you're not going to sleep, at least turn off your lights."

"Alright, mom," Emil muttered back. Lukas facepalmed, probably louder than he hoped to, and turned back to his own room as Emil turned off their lights. They turned to their side and sent another text message to Alfred.

**_You said you had a brother. What's he like?_ **

_Oh, yeah! My brother is called Matthew. He's a year younger than me (he's 16) and he's really my half-brother but we don't talk about that,, we were adopted twelve years ago. Our dads are great. Arthur is British and he's pretty strict but he can be really sweet too. Francis is from France and he's just really sweet most of the time. But don't get on his bad side. He gives good hugs._

_What about your family? What're they like?_

**_Well, I currently live with my brother and his fiancé. My brother is called Lukas and he seems really cold but he's usually pretty chill. His fiancé is called Mathias. He's Danish and he's really cool but also kind of obnoxious and super loud. I've been living with them for just over 2 years now. I moved out with Lukas because my parents are shit and I'm fairly sure they hate me._ **

_Why?_

**_I don't really want to talk about it._ **

_Alright._  
Hey, wait, does that mean it's your birthday today?  
Or well, I guess tomorrow for me.

**_Yeah. The 16th of June._ **

_British notations, huh? Dad always finds it funny how the States uses British notation for Independence Day. Which is my birthday, by the way. The 4th of July.  
I hate it. I love my birthday in general but fireworks terrify me. If there weren't fireworks it'd be great. _

**_I don't really like my birthday at all. Never have. It's never been good. I think the first time I had a decent birthday was my 14th birthday and even that was just meh. I hope I can actually enjoy my birthday soon but it doesn't look like it. Today's the best so far honestly and it's only 2 am._ **

_I'm glad. Birthdays should be enjoyable and it sucks when they aren't.  
So, happy birthday, Emil._

**_Thanks._ **

Emil set down his phone, his eyes shutting slowly. He was so tired, he didn't even think to say goodnight to Alfred. He'd wanted to. He'd intended to. He'd just suddenly been so tired he passed out after a while 

* * *

 

"Papa!" Alfred sprinted down the stairs, a grin on his face. "Papa, Dad!" 

"Quiet down, Alfred," Arthur said, setting his tea down on the table just before Alfred tackled him. "Christ!"

"Someone is happy," Francis commented with an amused smile. Arthur glared at his husband and Francis chuckled, finishing the nightly text to his sisters. The Frenchman then looked up to his oldest son, who had settled on Arthur's lap as if he wasn't almost 18. "What makes you so happy on this lovely night?"

"You didn't tell him yet?" Alfred looked back at the Brit, a small frown on his face.

"That's your duty, dear," Arthur replied, patting Alfred's back. Alfred let out a small sigh. "Daaad..."

"That doesn't answer my question," Francis smirked a little and set his phone on the armrest of the couch.

"Well," Alfred smiled, "I finally heard back from my soulmate today."

"What?" Francis's face lit up. He knew what it was like to have to wait - he'd been nearly 20 when he finally received a reply from Arthur - and he'd hated to see his son go through that too. "That's amazing! What are they like?"

"They're European," Alfred said. "Norwegian, to be exact. Their name is Emil and honestly, I think they're really cool. They live with their brother and his fiancé. Also, they're nonbinary so uh, they use gender-neutral pronouns."

"They sound amazing already," Arthur smiled. 

"I just hope they're okay," Alfred whispered, frowning suddenly. "I... I think they had a really bad childhood. They moved in with their brother of their own free will and they hate their birthday and they don't want to say why. Not that they have to or that I expect them to but I wish I could help."

Arthur held his oldest son close to him and sighed. "Sometimes life sucks and not everyone always wants to talk about why. They want to say it does and hear they're not alone, whether that be alone in dealing with whatever it is or alone in feeling bad. Soulmate or not. I hope they're okay too. I hope their life is getting better. I really do.

"I'm glad they have their family."


End file.
